Big K Ranch

Well, we are headed down to Oregon for a few well deserved days off. Of all the options Mike offered us, Nick was most excited about going to a dude ranch. I had thought that paddling Ross lake sounded like fun. Nick wanted to ride horses. Oh no, not horseback riding!

I have a sketchy past when it comes to horses. When I was three, I was put on a pony and led around my Grandma's yard. That was exciting and I looked forward to more. Unfortunately, more didn't happen until I was fourteen and my uncle briefly had a horse. Ginger was a nice horse and I liked her, but after my uncle got the saddle put on her, he left me alone with Ginger. Boy, she could see I was a greenhorn from a mile away. After all these years, I'm still good with the details of that encounter. It wasn't traumatic, but it was definitely an adventure.

First off, Ginger stepped on the toe of my tennis shoe. She didn't press down, but she wasn't letting go either. Eventually, after some pulling my foot and shoving her shoulder, she relented and let me have my foot back. So then, I got one foot in the stirrup and she took two steps forward. I didn't quite fall down, but I could see that she was laughing at my attempt at doing the splits.  She did this same trick a couple of times more until she got tired of the joke. I saw my opening and I hopped into the saddle quick! And off we went!

No amount of what I thought of as directions made her go where I wanted to go. She cantered around close under the eaves of the farm house. She trotted under a low branch. I was quite acrobatic trying to stay on her past these obstacles. I shook the reins, trying to get her out of the uncomfortable trot and she took off at a gallop. Now this is what I had in mind! This was the only reason to have a horse. We galloped across the field. I gave up trying to direct her and let her run her circuit. We galloped down the gravel lane. We went across another field until we came to a dirt track. It was like she was out on an afternoon stroll and had a big fly on her back. At least there were no more sweeping obstacles and she'd tired of that uncomfortable trot.

Eventually I found my seat and saw that she was headed back home with me. I didn't want it to end. Ginger wasn't done with me yet. About a hundred yards from the house, I could see my uncle coming out to look for us. Just then, Ginger sucked in her gut as she slowly walked toward him and the saddle and I slid sideways. I hung on for dear life until my uncle could help me untangle my skyward leg and drop me, not too gracefully, onto the gravel. My uncle was mad at her, but she really didn't try to hurt me. He sold the farm and Ginger before I got another chance to ride.

Since then, all my horse experiences have been on the plodding line of animals who seemed half dead, with one bright exception. A few years ago, a friend of mine bought a retired racehorse. This guy was beautiful and was so tall, I couldn't see over his haunches. I'd guess his butt stood at least six feet three inches tall. My friend got a step for me and coaxed me onto him. I knew I had no business on a horse like this. I felt like I was on something electrified. I pleaded with my friend not to let go of his reins and to stay in the corral. Even then, I felt a thrill that made that first pony ride and my run with Ginger pale in comparison.  Thankfully, she held onto us.  The best part about meeting that horse was when I got off safely and my friend let me use a brush on him. He loved that and I was much happier grooming him until it was time to leave than I would have been on his back.

I hope I get to groom some beautiful horses this weekend. I'll let you know if I have the courage for another adventure trying to ride. God help me.

Thank you for listening, jb